


Die Kirsche (The Cherry)

by Vitalis



Category: Grease (1978), Grease - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, German, Grease - Freeform, Marty - Freeform, Marty/OC - Freeform, OC, Wilhelm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitalis/pseuds/Vitalis
Summary: During the summer of 1958, Wilhelm Schwartz, a T-bird who moved from West Germany with his parents when he was eight, starts a rapport with Marty. How will things, and the school year, progress? Read, review if you would, and find out! Contains German.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Wilhelm Schwartz had been living in America since the age of eight, and today, it was the summer of 1958. He’d been attending Rydell High School, and this coming term, he’d be a senior. He was now sipping a cherry soda on the beach, proudly wearing his black leather jacket, which had been emblazoned with the T-birds’ logo two years ago after Kenicke had put in a good word for him for repairing several damaged components to his car.   
“Well, well, well,” said a voice next to Wilhelm. “Bill Schwartz, how’s it goin’?”   
“Danny Zuko,” Wilhelm said, nodding. “It’s going pretty well. How’s your luck with the Frauleins?”   
“I just met this girl a couple weeks ago named Sandy. She’s Australian.”   
“Austrian, you mean?”   
“Australian, Bill. With the kangaroos? God, you are so Eurocentric.”   
“What do you want from me, Herr Zuko? I’m German.”   
“Whatever you like,” said Danny as Wilhelm finished his soda.   
“Want me to pick you something up from the beach house, Freund?”   
“Nah, I’m good,” said Danny casually with a wave of his hand.   
“In that case,” said Wilhelm, “I’m off to the beach house for now. The ladies don’t catch themselves, ja?” Wilhelm sauntered to the beach house and was about to order another soda when a girl’s voice resounded in front of him.   
“Hey Schwartz!” Wilhelm looked to the voice’s source.

“Ach du lieber, what’s this?”   
“Don’t play coy with us, come here and sit down!”   
“Want a soda, anyone?”   
“Cherry!” another girl’s voice called out.   
“Ausgezeichnet! I didn’t think you’d be here, Fraulein Maraschino! Fitting you’d want a cherry soda, ja?”   
“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Marty! Now come over here before we die of old age!”   
“Two cherry sodas please,” said Wilhelm, sliding some money on the counter. When he received the sodas, he sat next to Marty and settled in.   
“I warn you, if Sonny sees me with you he’ll…”   
“Oh he won’t,” said Marty. “You can make sure of that, yeah?”   
“Of course I can. Run him over with my BMW and see if he turns into a pancake like in the cartoons.” They all laughed, and Frenchy spoke up.   
“Remember when Wilhelm thought I was actually French?”   
“God!” said Jan. “I am Contractually obligated to hate ze French,” she said in an obviously fake German accent. “I am German, ja.”   
“Of course,” said Wilhelm, shrugging. “I _am_ German.”   
“Lay off, Jan,” Marty said with a scoff.   
“Marty?” Wilhelm turned to the voice as Marty did the same.   
“God’s hooks!” he said, surprised. “Look, Sonny, it’s not what you…”   
“I’m not mad at you, Bill,” said Sonny, shrugging.

“Marty, I didn’t know Schwartz was… one of your pen-pals!” The two left, and Wilhelm looked to Frenchy.   
“Oh no,” she whispered.   
“This cannot end well,” agreed Wilhelm.   
A few minutes later, Marty reappeared. “Good news, ladies,” she drawled unenthusiastically. “I’m single.”   
Wilhelm narrowed his eyes, feeling both sorry for Marty and glad at the same time… for reasons unknown. Could this be an opportunity? Was he even remotely interested in Marty? These were things he’d have to consider. For now, he decided to remain neutral. “Ach,” he said. “A tough break. You have my sympathy.”   
“Thanks,” said Marty, smiling weakly. “I, ah, don’t intend to leave the Pink Ladies, by the way.”   
“No one said you had to,” said the girl who’d first called out Wilhelm’s name, Rizzo. “Crap happens, Marty, there’s nothin’ we can do. Men are stupid. Oh… no offense, Schwartz.”   
“None taken,” said Wilhelm. “To be fair most men can be dummkopfs.”   
“So you said you own a BMW,” said Marty. “I didn’t think you had a car.”   
“I just got my license,” Wilhelm admitted. “My parents didn’t want our insurance to go up, but I got them to cave! Said I’d get a job and pay for my own insurance. Before you ask, I’ve got weekends off, and it is Saturday.”   
“So what kind of BMW is it?” Frenchy asked.   
“It’s a 507 roadster, ’55,” said Wilhelm. “My parents bought it used. It’s black.” 

“You own a fricking 507?!” a voice said behind him.   
“Hello, Kenicke,” said Wilhelm. “Yes, I do.”   
“How’d you manage that?”   
“I told my parents I wanted a decent car, and so they bought me a used and, admittedly beat-up 507. As you know, cars are my thing, so I went ahead and spruced it up. It used to be green, but it’s black now, with red leather seats. It cost a considerable amount of money to pull off, but that’s what a job’s for. I work as a clerk at a law firm.”   
“His dad’s a lawyer,” Kenicke explained. “Bill wants to study law.”   
“If I do, my father says he’ll take me into his firm.”   
“That’s a nice break,” Kenicke said with a nod. “Ah, the guys and I would like to borrow you lovely ladies, if you don’t mind.”   
“Course not,” said Frenchy. “Looks like the party’s over,” said Rizzo. “Coming Marty?”   
“I think I’ll stay here,” she said.   
“Alright,” Rizzo said, shrugging. “Your call.”   
Marty sighed and sipped her soda, and Wilhelm leaned back, stroking his glass in thought, narrowing his eyes again.   
“Something on your mind?” Marty asked.   
“This may be an inopportune time to bring this up,” said Wilhelm hesitantly, “but at least I don’t mind that you’ve got pen pals overseas.”   
“One of them’s a marine,” Marty said.   
“Ooh, a United States Marine,” said Wilhelm nervously. “Not sure I can compete with that.”   
“He’s not competition… he’s in Korea.”   
“Ja, that’s pretty far,” said Wilhelm. “I’ve got friends in Germany… well _West_ Germany… I still write to, myself. We’re thinking of heading back to the Fatherland for Christmas.”   
“Whereabouts in West Germany?”   
Wilhelm smiled. “Dusseldorf,” he said. “I’m seventeen, by the way.”   
“You seem mature for your age. A car, a job… I remember you saying you were into history and classical music.”   
“Sometimes I feel like an old man trapped in a young man’s body,” he admitted. Wilhelm smiled, looking into Marty’s brown eyes and contemplating. If something were starting, he’d find out soon enough. But for now, he’d have to play it cool.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

“You mean he hasn’t laid a hand on you yet?”  A week had passed since Sonny and Marty had broken up, and Rizzo was looking at Marty incredulously.  
“Hey, Wilhelm’s a gentleman.  Can’t expect him to do anything _too_ far-fetched.”  
Frenchy gasped and leaned forward, grinning broadly.  “Has he asked you out yet?”  
Marty gasped and let out a short scream.  “He has!” she said, suddenly remembering.  “We’re going to the drive-in tomorrow night!  Oh… I can’t see him looking like _this_!”  
“You’re right,” said Frenchy seriously.  “This _has_ to be taken care of.  Bathroom.  Now.”  
Just then, the phone rang.  “Hello?  Oh… no, it’s Jan… Oh, nothing!  Oh, you’re after Marty?”  
“Stall him!” Marty whispered frantically.  
“Yes, Frenchy’s giving her a touch-up.”

On the other line, Wilhelm chuckled.  “Oh, I understand… you say she wants to look good for the drive in?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Oh… it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, which is why I called… no, I’m not cancelling.”  
“Hello!”  
“Ah, good.  Just the lady I wanted to talk to.  It’s supposed to rain tomorrow.  But the same movie _is_ playing at the movie theater.”  
“Oh.  You want to go to an actual theater instead?”  
“I know, that’s what convertible tops are for, but drive-ins are no good if the top’s up.  Showtime’s at seven if you’re interested, and we can do dinner as well.  My treat, of course.”  
“Of course!” said Marty happily.  “Yes, let’s do that!”  
“Dinner’s going to be, I think, at the steakhouse down the road from the theater.  Unless, of course, you have something else in mind.”  
“How about the Frosty Palace?  I’d rather have a good burger.”  
“Sounds good to me,” said Wilhelm.  “I will talk to you tomorrow, ja?”  
“Of course.”  
“Excellent.  Auf wiederhören.”

“Sounds like you like each other,” said Frenchy.  
“I’m not gonna lie,” said Marty.  “He scored major points with his job and his car.”  
“You’re sure he’s seventeen?” frenchy asked.  
“Certain of it,” said Marty.  “I even asked his father, and sure enough.”  
“How _is_ his dad?  Stiff as I think?”  
“Germans are a stiff group of people, but his dad’s okay.  Kinda formal, but still.”  
“How’d I do?” Frenchy asked somewhat nervously.  
Marty looked herself over.  “You did fine,” she said encouragingly.

The next night approached, and just as Wilhelm and the weather man had said, it was indeed raining.  Wilhelm was in the Maraschinos’ driveway, an umbrella in his hand.  He rang the doorbell and Marty’s father answered.  
“Oh!  Bill Schwartz, hello!  She’s still getting ready.  Why don’t you come in?”  
Wilhelm entered and started to bend over to untie his shoes.  
“Come on, no need for that,” said Marty’s father dismissively.  
“As you say, Herr Maraschino,” said Wilhelm, nodding.  
“Come on, call me Vincenzo… I know Germans are a formal group of people, but… you can loosen up.”  
Wilhelm shrugged and smiled.  “My German parents taught me to court a lady the German way,” he explained.

“We do things differently in America,” said Vincenzo casually.  “Besides which, it’s not like I’m going to blow your brains out!  Just don’t hurt her, that’s all.”  
A scream could be heard from upstairs.  “He’s here!” Marty cried frantically.  “How do I look?  Is my hair okay?  How about my dress?”  
“You look amazing!” said Wilhelm.  
“But you can’t see me!”  
“I have X-ray vision, I’m Superman!”  
“Yeah, right!  I’ll be down in a minute!”  
A few minutes later, Marty came down the stairs wearing a dark blue sleeveless dress and matching open-toed heels.  
“Mein Leben,” Wilhelm said, smiling.  “Feels like I’m underdressed.”

The two left, and headed to the Frosty Palace.  When they get there, they ordered their food and waited.  “So did you listen to Elvis’ latest record?” Marty asked.  
“Elvis is okay, but Bing Crosby is _clearly_ the better singer,” said Wilhelm.  “I like his sound.  Elvis is… well it’s not noise, but I can barely hear him over the screaming.”  
“Because we all love him!” said Marty, surprised.  
“Would it kill Herr Presley to step into a recording booth?  What, is he like a demon in a church, he’ll sizzle?  And I’ve seen him on television.  And who in their right mind dances like _that_?”  
“Elvis Presley!” Marty said, shocked.  “You don’t like Elvis?!”  
“Oh I _like_ Elvis, I think his songs are just fine,” said Wilhelm, raising his hands.  “Just some of the things he does are questionable, that’s all.”

“Rock and roll is alright, but honestly, give me the classics.  Beethoven, Bach, Wagner, Mozart, Tchaikovsky.”  
“I always liked Mozart,” said Marty, “but Wagner’s too heavy.”  
“Too heavy?!” Wilhelm asked, taken aback.  “Ach, Marty… now you know how I feel about all the screaming at Elvis concerts.  God’s wounds, just listen to the music.”  
Marty and Wilhelm laughed, and the food arrived.  “Ah good, the cavalry’s here,” said Wilhelm.  “And tremble, ye Frenchmen, for it is Prussian!”

After dinner, of course, came the movie, a romantic comedy.  Wilhelm didn’t pay much attention to the movie, but knew it starred Marilyn Monroe.  Wilhelm decided that tonight, he’d take Marty’s father’s advice and loosen up.    
Marty smiled.  “Ooh!” she said softly.  “I think he’s about to tell her he loves her!”  
Wilhelm, feeling a jolt of confidence, wrapped his arm around Marty, who leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes.  When the movie was over, they lingered in the lobby.  
“So, what did you think of the movie?” Marty asked.  
“It wasn’t _bad_ ,” Wilhelm conceded, “but it wasn’t all that great.”  
“Well… didn’t you think Marilyn Monroe was pretty?”  
“Are you kidding me?” Wilhelm said.  “Next to you, she looked like an absolute _gorgon_!”  
Marty blushed.  “You think I… I’m prettier than Marilyn Monroe?” she asked shyly.  
Wilhelm nodded.  “Of course I do,” he said, “and so does anyone with working eyes.”

When they got home, Wilhelm smiled.  “An excellent night it was,” he said.  
“I had a fantastic time,” said Marty, “and I’m not saying that just to be nice.”  
“Time for me to go, then,” he said ruefully.  
Marty smiled.  “Let’s… let’s do this again soon,” she said.  She handed him a slip of paper.  “Call me, okay?” she said, blushing faintly and kissing him on the cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

The week after the date, the T-birds were gathered in the Frosty palace.    
“So what’s this I hear about you and Marty, huh?” Sonny asked.  
“We’re talking.  In depth I might add.”  
“Stealing my girl?”  
Wilhelm scoffed.  “Ha!  Bad news, Signor la Tierri.  She hasn’t been ‘your girl’ for a while now.  You broke up, remember?”  
“Doesn’t mean I can’t get her back.”  
“She doesn’t _want_ you back, Schweinhund,” Wilhelm drawled, sipping his milkshake.  
“I warn you, she’s mine.  I don’t care who you are.  You’re goin’ down, Nazi!”

Wilhelm narrowed his eyes and grinned.  “What… was that?” he asked.  
“You heard me.”  
“What did you call me, Martin,” he said.  
“Don’t you call me…”  
“Herr la Tieri,” said Wilhelm calmly.  “Would you care to step outside?”  
Danny’s mouth opened in shock.  “Oh shit…” he whispered.  
The T-birds retreated to the back of the Frosty Palace, and Wilhelm and Sonny squared off.  “You’re dead, Adolf.”  
Wilhelm grappled with Sonny for a few seconds, then managed to push him against the chain link fence.  Readying his fist, he delivered a few punches to Sonny’s face, barking as he punched, “ _My… name… is… Wil… helm_!”  


As Wilhelm was pushed off, he delivered a kick to Sonny’s shin.  He received a punch to the throat in return, and gagged, bringing up saliva and mucus.  Spitting in Sonny’s eye, Wilhelm grappled with him again, this time being forced to the ground.  As he wrapped his hands around Sonny’s neck, Sonny repeatedly punched him.  Wilhelm let out a growl of rage and delivered a kick with both feet to Sonny’s gut.  Both combatants stood up and circled each other.    
“Nazi,” sonny hissed.  
Wilhelm growled.  “You God-damned Mussolini-worshipping fascist grease ball!” he shouted.  “Go choke on a plate of spaghetti, and when you get to Hell, tell your friend Al Capone Wilhelm Schwartz sent you!”  
Sonny let out a yell and charged Wilhelm, not seeing his extended foot.  As Sonny tripped, he turned onto his back, groaning.  
“Let me explain something to you, _sonny_ ,” Wilhelm hissed.  He stepped closer and shouted, as he delivered kick after kick to Sonny’s curled-up form.  “ _NO… BAS… TARD… CALLS… ME… NA… ZI_!!”  
“Bill,” Danny said over the din.  “Bill!”  He grabbed Wilhelm and pulled him away.  “He’s down.  He’s down!  Bill, he’s _down_!!”  
“I’ll kill that bastard!” Wilhelm practically shrieked, pointing at Sonny fiercely.  “ _He’s dead!  His entire family is dead_!!  _I want his house burned to the damn ground_!!”

A few minutes later, the T-birds and Wilhelm had dragged a half-conscious, bruised, and bleeding Sonny to the car.  “Sorry you almost had to be sent to the hospital,” a now-calm Wilhelm said.  “But when someone calls me a Nazi… I get a little crazy.”  
Sonny groaned.  “It’s fine,” he slurred.  “Point taken… oof… Jesus Christ, Bill… you kicked my ass.”  
“I should probably leave,” said Wilhelm.  
Just then, the Pink Ladies arrived on the scene.  “Hey!” Frenchy called out.  “Sorry we’re late.  We… oh _Sonny_!”  She ran over to Sonny and leaned over the car.  
Marty gasped.  “What happened?” she asked worriedly, running over to Wilhelm.  “My God!  Wilhelm, did you…”  
“I had to,” said Wilhelm.  “He called me a Nazi, for God’s sake.”

“ _Wilhelm_ did this to you?” Frenchy said softly.  “God, you’re a wreck!”  
“In all fairness, calling him a Nazi was way out of line.”  
“Ooh… you shouldn’t have done that,” Frenchy scolded.  
“He did,” said Danny.  “he did call him a Nazi, so Bill kicked him around a bit.”  
“Can I interest you in a shake?” Wilhelm asked Marty.  
“Sure!  And while we’re at it, you need ice.  Your face is swollen.”  
“Really?  Mein Gott, am I glad I didn’t get the worse end of it!”

“Really?” Marty asked over milkshakes as Wilhelm applied ice to his face.  “He accused you of _stealing his girl_?  I haven’t been his _girl_ since… you know.”  
“I told him just as much,” said Wilhelm.  “Sorry about the mess, Vi.”  
“Oh don’t worry about it,” said Vi.  “Kids get into fights behind my place all the time.  Just… take it to the junkyard next time, okay?”  
“Alright,” said Wilhelm, shrugging.  
“Anyway,” Wilhelm continued, “apparently Sonny is still holding onto old habits.”  
“God,” Marty groaned, sipping her milkshake.  “It’s ridiculous.”

When Wilhelm got home, he ran into his father.  “Oh.  Hello, Papa,” he said.  “Sorry I’m home late.”  
“You’re not home late, it’s not midnight yet.  What happened to you?”  
“I admit, I got into a fight,” Wilhelm said.  “Sonny la Tierri called me a Nazi.”  
“He called you a _what_?!” his mother shrieked.  “I hope you sent him home _crying_ then!”  
“Don’t worry, he got the worst of it.  I’m fine, and he will be too, but he was only a quarter of the way conscious when I was done with him.”  
“Ordinarily I’d ground you, Herr Schwartz,” his father said sternly.  “But when your honor’s insulted like _that_ … well then I don’t find your fight punishable.  He had it coming.”  
“We’re even now, he won’t call me a Nazi again.”  
“He’d better not, or it’ll be _my_ turn!” Wilhelm’s father said with a chuckle.  “So you enjoy your day at the beach with Fraulein Maraschino, who it just so happens I rather like.”  
“Thanks for understanding,” said Wilhelm.  “We all know nobody calls me that.”  Wilhelm went up to his room and finally, at midnight on the dot, got ready for bed.


End file.
